Waiting
by Durgas Dragon
Summary: A reflective look into the life of one man and the person who influenced it the most. WARNING!!! This story contains spoilers for the fifth book, so if you haven’t read it and don’t like knowing, DO NOT READ THIS!! Also, if you don’t like slash,


**Waiting**

**_By Durga Kali_**

_Disclaimer: No, I don't own any of the characters here.  They are solely the property of the author, who is in deep doodoo with me right now…if I owned the characters, I can promise you right now things would have turned out differently in the fifth book…._

_Summary:  A reflective look into the life of one man and the person who influenced it the most.  WARNING!!!  This story contains spoilers for the fifth book, so if you haven't read it and don't like knowing, DO NOT READ THIS!!  Also, if you don't like slash, DO NOT READ THIS because this has a bit of it!!_

_Feedback:  PLEASE give me some…I'm trying something new here and I really want to hear what you have to say about this!!!  Prejudice comments are not feedback._

_Rating: R (For sexual references and adult situations)_

            I think it was on the last day at Hogwarts that I realised that I loved you.

            We were walking out to those carriages for the very last time, and I glanced over at you, and I watched the sun catch your hair, your eyes, your teeth as you tossed your head back and laughed, and I realised that this was it.  I would never wake up again to your snores every night.  I would no longer be subject to your crazy and spontaneous whims whenever you felt the urge.  I could no longer just glance up at you to have you know that I needed someone to talk to.  Life would separate us from those things.  That degree of intimacy was slipping from my hands forever.

            And it was all I could do not to cry.

            The sudden pain at this revelation cut through my soul like nothing else had ever done.  The thought that I was going to lose the closeness of our friendship hurt more than it for any other friend I had.  I didn't want to let you go.  I wanted to keep you close to me forever.

            Being the closed-mouth person I was, I never told you this.  I just followed you and the others on to the train.  And I let you walk away from my life for the first time.

            A few years passed.  I kept in touch with all of my friends, but I made a special effort to try and stay close to you.  Even though times were dangerous and I wasn't sure if you weren't going to follow the path of your brother, I wrote to you.  I didn't want to let myself believe that you could go such a way.

            The next time I saw you in person was at the wedding.  You looked wonderful, better than I had ever seen you.  It made my gut ache to realise I had missed so much of your life.  I tried to make myself unnoticeable to you, but your sharp eyes missed nothing.  Within seconds, you had hugged me tighter than I had been hugged in a long time, and you were telling everyone around you about me.  I was embarrassed, yet pleased that you clearly wanted to make me so prominent in your circle of friends, like I was normal and perfect like the rest of them were.

            I enjoyed the wedding more than I thought I would, mainly because of you.  You wouldn't let me slid off into a corner to observe.  You didn't try to make me drink because you knew that I avoided alcohol, but you made numerous toasts in my honour, grinning the whole time because you knew that to drink to one's own toast was to bring about bad luck.

            You got horribly drunk that night.  It didn't surprise me.  You had always liked your drinks.  What did surprise me was when you came to me and asked me to escort you home because you knew you were too drunk to do it safely on your own.  Out of all your friends there, you chose me.  I felt my heart swell to know that you still trusted me that much, even though you knew what I was.

            I will always remember that night, because that was the night that you first kissed me.  To this day, I still don't know if it was because you were drunk or because you were hoping to get me in to your bed.

            I remember it so clearly.  I had just gotten you into your flat and I was helping you make it to your room.  It was a hazardous task to move around your flat for even the most sober, as you were still a horrible slob.  You had stumbled on a patch of clear floor and your weight nearly dragged me down.  I tried to compensate and nearly walked into a wall as a result.  Your weight burned into mine and I realised you were staring at me, staring as if you hadn't seen me before and you wanted to forever remember my features.  I found myself getting lost into your gaze.

            You mumbled something incoherent about the faint light illuminating my face and then your mouth was on mine.

            One part of my brain told me that this wasn't really happening, while another part warned me of the repercussions if I didn't push you off now.  But they were such small little voices, they were quickly drowned out by my joy of finding such perfection in the world.  Even though I knew that it was a mistake to continue kissing you, I did because I knew that I would never receive this chance again.

            I made a second mistake when I opened my mouth for you when your tongue flickered out to taste me.  I had made the erroneous assumption that perfection came from my lips against yours.  Perfection was our tongues twining in each others mouths as they tried to mate themselves more thoroughly together.

            When you finally pulled away so that we could breath, I heard a painful whimper rip itself from my throat.  I gasped for air, and made the disappointing discovery that it tasted nothing like you did.

            I wanted to continue, continue until there was so much of me in you that you could be me, but I knew that would be unwise.  I knew my feelings for you, but you were drunk and I knew that when you got drunk, you found a need to screw.  I didn't want to be an one night stand for you.  I didn't want to ruin our friendship.  Most of all, I feared if I followed my more primitive urges, you would wake up and hate me, and I would lose you forever.

            So I escorted you to your room and left you there after I had wrestled your boots off.  This time, it was me that left you, but that hurt almost more than when you did unknowingly the first time.  For the first time in my life, I thought about joining you in a drunken stupor.

            But I didn't.  Instead, I left you a note that didn't even touch the tip of the iceberg of my feelings for you.  I didn't mention the beautiful kiss that we had shared, and at the same moment that I prayed you would be intoxicated enough that you wouldn't remember, I prayed equally hard that you would cherish it the same way that I did.

            I breathed a huge sigh of relief the day that I receive your letter and it contained no sign that you never wanted to see me again.  Instead, it suggested that we get together more often, because you said you missed me.

            I danced around the hovel I lived in for days after that letter.  Even the impending moon couldn't dampen my spirits.  I wrote back and said what a wonderful idea that it was.  I had barely sent that letter out when you replied.  You wanted to get together that Friday for tea.

            It became a ritual for us.  Every Friday, I would go to your flat, unless it was after a full moon, in which case you came to my shabby hole of a house.  My entire week was waiting for those Fridays.  For the first time since Hogwarts, I was truly happy.

            My joy only increased the day that Lily gave birth to a fine strong cub.  He looked so much like his father.  Lily and James insisted to have me be their child's nanny while they made you his godfather.  James even insisted that they pay me to tend for their baby.  Neither he nor Lily would take no for an answer.  I tried leaving the money at their house, but it always seemed to find a way into my vault anyways.

            Watching the baby Harry was one of the brightest spots in my life.  For the first time, I had a steady job that didn't mind if I needed a few days off every mouth, and I got to tend to a truly magnificent child.

            The rest of the world couldn't be so happy.  The deaths were increasing, and it was getting harder and harder to know who to trust.  Lily and James were getting more and more worried.  Finally, one day, Lily told me--with tears streaming down her face--that she and James were going into hiding and they couldn't have me sit for them until after the danger passed.  I reassured her that I understood, and I thought that they were doing the right thing.  She sobbed into my shoulder when I told her that I would do everything possible to keep them safe.

            That afternoon, I had my weekly tea with you.  You were quiet, and I couldn't get you to tell me what was wrong.  As you were leaving, you suddenly turned to me and looked at me.  I looked back.  You had been acting differently, insisting to come to my place even though the moon wasn't for another week and a half.  I was scared for you, and for the last time, I asked you what was wrong.

            You shook your head slowly and you met my eyes.  For the second time in my life, I found myself frozen in place as I lost myself to those beautiful eyes.

            I hadn't realised how close you had suddenly gotten until I felt your breath tickling my face as you breathed my name and your slightly rough hands pushed my hair off of my face.  And, for the second time, you leaned in and claimed my mouth as yours.

            I moaned and flung my heart behind my lips.  You weren't drunk now.  My heart sang and trilled its ecstasy as our tongues met again.  You had feelings for me.

            You tried to let my lips go.  The loss of contact left me spinning, so I locked my slender fingers on the one thing that could ground me:  You.  You made a soft noise, but I swallowed it as I covered the distance between us this time.  You didn't fight me.  You were surprised, I think, at first, but you were never one who let surprise overbalance them for long.

            When we both broke apart this time, I wasn't the only one breathing like Peter after running a few laps.  You informed me sadly, regretfully, that you had to go as you traced my face with your thumb.  I nodded to show that I understood.  I couldn't trust my voice.

            My body danced and rejoiced after you had left.  I had never know such joy as I did now.  You wanted me.  You had feelings for me that went beyond being just friends.  I was so happy, if Malfoy and Snape were to walk into my house right now, I would have given them both hugs and offered them my best tea.

            My life was smashed five days later.  Peter was dead, killed by you.  Lily and James were dead, killed because of you.  Harry was taken from my life, gone because of  you, and they wouldn't even let me give him something to remember me by, once again, your hand taking my happiness from me.  You were hurried off to prison, a hell that rivalled my own.

            I think that I went through all the stages that muggle doctors say that go with grief.  At first, I couldn't believe that you would do such terrible things, not to me, not to James--who I know you loved like a brother--not to Lily, not to Harry, not even to Peter.  I left the denial and moved into the anger.  How dare you use me like that.  You kissed me like you meant it.  You left me believing in you.  You had my heart, and you purposely broke it.  You took all that was precious to me.  I tried bargaining with my heart, promising it that I would find someone else for it to care about.  It didn't listen to me.  I moved on to acceptance.  That is where I stayed.  I couldn't heal.  You had me in your hands, and I couldn't free myself from them.

            The years passed.  I wrote angry letters to you and burned them.  I cursed your name.  I hid all your pictures and letters in a trunk so I couldn't see them or read them any more.  I even quit going out at night unless it was cloudy so I wouldn't see your namesake burning bright in the sky to remind me of how you were and what you meant to me.

            Yet I couldn't forget you.  You haunted me.  I couldn't bring myself to burn your things, so I hid them, just like I hid my feelings for you.  You made my nights hell because your soft hungry mouth and strong darting tongue taunted me in my dreams, promising me forbidden pleasures and fantasies that left me pleading and ashamed.

            When Dumbledore asked me to come back to the school to teach, I took the opportunity.  Anything to distract my thoughts from you.  I would be doing something I had only dreamed that I could do, and I looked forwards to grading papers and teaching those students about things in life.

            Then they said that you had escaped.  I knew how you did it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone.  It would mean betraying everyone who was still alive that trusted me.

            I had strong, mixed feelings about your escape.  The part of me that could never let you go cheered and hoped that you would come to visit me.  The other part of me hoped that I would never see you again and you would be caught very soon.

            I distracted myself from you with work.  Teaching was better than anything I had ever done outside of kissing you.  Even though Snape still disliked me, he made me a potion that made my curse bearable.  And I could see Harry again.

            He looked so much like his father, I wanted to cry the first time that I saw him.  I wanted to run up to him and tell him how I tended him while his parents were at work.  I never did, because with in three seconds of talking with him, I realised he had no recollection of me.  As far as he knew, this was the first time he had ever met me.

            So I kept my distance.  I did jump at the opportunity to try and make him feel better and to teach him especially, but my heart wretched every time I looked at him.  I don't think I'll ever forget the slightly strained tone of voice that he had when he asked me if I knew his father.

            The year passed and I was continually impressed by Harry.  His work was always good in my class and from what I could see, he had his father's independent brave streak.

            When I heard about the hippogriff that was to be killed, I pulled out the map that I had help make so many years before to see if Harry would do what his father would have done.  He, Ron, and Hermione all were creeping across the lawn to Hagrid's hut.  A little bit later, I nearly fell off of my chair.  I rubbed my tired eyes and looked again.  There, in tiny letters, with Harry and his friends, was Peter's name.

            My brain dove into overtime.  If Peter was alive…you were innocent.  How that could be, I didn't know, but you were innocent.  That was all that mattered.  You weren't guilty, you weren't the reason so many things in my life were wrong.  You could soon come and make everything right.

            I dashed, leaving the map on my desk in haste as I ran out to meet you, to see you again.

            When I saw you, you were too thin, too dirty, too smelly.  Your hair, your old pride and joy, was matted and filthy.  Your eyes that use to captivate me, were dark and filled with the need to truly kill Peter.  But you were innocent, and that made you the most beautiful, desirable thing that I would ever lay eyes on.

            Because I believed you, we were able explain things to Harry.  And I saw you were in my grasp again.  I had forgotten about the full moon in my joy.  And, because of that, I lost my job, and I lost you again.

            But now I waited for you.  You would find me, and you would come to me again.  I wrote long letters to you whenever I got a short note from you.  I never told you that I had moved into a cottage that Dumbledore had provided for me in case that someone intercepted it, but I had faith that you would figure out where I was.

            The summer left me, and I was beginning to get scared.  What if your time in prison had taken all your memories of me?  I didn't know what I'd do if that was the case.

            But the week before the full moon in October, you arrived on my doorstep late at night, hippogriff in tow.  You informed me that you could stay for a little bit, just until after the moon had passed.  I knew that, and I simply told you I was happy to see you again.

            I suggested that you use the small bathroom to clean yourself up while I made dinner.  Your eyes lit up and I realised how much you must have missed such simple things as bathing in a hot tub.

            I tethered the hippogriff in a small shed behind my tiny cottage and gave it some bones to chew on before I grabbed a few eggs and hurried back inside to make you something to eat.  You still looked too thin to me, so I was determined to make sure that you had proper things to eat the entire time you would be with me.

            I nearly burnt the eggs in my nervous excitement and the bacon almost had to be chiselled out of the pan.  The bread was safe, as all it needed was cutting and I didn't spill too much water as I filled the cups.

            And I waited.  You were in the bathroom so long I was almost scared that something had happened to you.  My worries were unfounded when you finally came out, looking relaxed, clean, and slightly apprehensive.  You held the towel around your waist as you apologised for the dirty ring that you had left around the inside of my tub.

            You were too thin.  I could see all of your ribs poking through the once strong chest.  I managed not to stare.  I became conscious of how uncomfortable you must be standing there.  You still had too much pride to ask for my help, but knew you were at my mercy.  You didn't want to come out in that tattered rag that you had been wearing when you arrived, but you didn't want impose upon me any further.

            I apologised to you as I hurried over to my worn wardrobe.  I handed you my largest and least shabby robes.  I had forgotten that you would need new clothing.

            You at first tried to refused, but you gave in in the end.  I knew how to get you see my way.  I think you were secretly grateful.  I think we were both surprised how well it fit you.  Other than being too short for your long limbs, it fit your wasted form.  I imagine that was the first time you understood how thin you had become.  I had always been the thin one and you had always been the broad one.

            You sighed to yourself, and I decided to distract you by telling you that dinner was ready for you.  As you sat down, you asked me if I could perform a cutting charm on your hair.  You said that you wanted to cut it all off.

            I couldn't believe it.  You wanted all of that gorgeous hair gone.  I knew that it was matted and tangled, and I could understand if you wanted to cut some of it off, but to cut all of it!

            I must have been silent for too long because you looked at me.  I asked you why you wanted it all gone.  You said because you didn't want to have to deal with it.  You didn't have the patience to comb it all out.

            I can't tell you what relief that statement gave me.  I could handle your impatience.  For moment there, I was afraid that you had changed so much that I didn't know anything about you anymore.

            I offered you a compromise.  I would cut your waist-length hair up to your shoulder blades, comb out all the problems, then trim it up to your shoulders, back to the way you had always liked it.  You gave me an odd look, as if you couldn't believe that I would ever want to do such a thing, but you finally agreed.

            We talked the night away while I carefully fought with the snarls in your beautiful hair.  I was amazed of how much of my life you wanted to know about.  It was almost if you felt that I was a different person, and you wanted to know this strange being.  I was cautious about my questioning about your time in prison, as I didn't know how willing you would be to talk about that joyless, hopeless hellhole.

            You were mildly ready to respond, sometimes quiet for so long I would start to apologise for intruding and making you remember.  You always stopped me and told me that I had a right to know what had happened to you.  I don't know why you felt that I had the 'right' to know, but I think it helped you find peace with yourself.

            When dawn came around, I ignored your protests and set you up in my bed.  You needed sleep, and I felt that you needed sleep in a real bed, if you could really call that lumpy thing I slept on a bed.

            I couldn't sleep, as I had things to do around the house, and even if I had wanted to rest, I couldn't have.  You had given me energy that I hadn't felt since my youth.

            I cleaned the bathtub and discovered that you really hadn't been lying when you said that there was a ring.  It took numerous cleaning charms and a lot of elbow grease to get rid of it.

            I was out tending the chickens after a brief lunch when you poked your head out.  I told you where to find your breakfast, and that I would be inside in a moment.  I found myself humming as I finished my chores.

            I could see the immediate difference that having good food, a bath, rest, and someone to talk to did for you.  Your skin was still sallow, but it was beginning to gain a healthier glow and you didn't look so terrible.  You even attempted one of your old smiles as I cam back in.  I nearly glowed.

            You wanted to talk about Harry now, so I told you about him from what I knew from my classes with the boy.  Talking about Harry lead naturally to talking about his father and we laughed at memories we had of him.  Your laugh sounded even more bark-like and harsh, and the expression on your face when you did it for the first time after so long was priceless.  You looked so surprised that I began to laugh at you.

            You grew more serious after dinner, almost broodingly so.  I let you think and sort out your thoughts.  You surprised me by suddenly asking me why I took you in.  I couldn't believe that you were asking me this, but I felt that you needed an answer.  I told you that I wanted to.  You had always been my friend.

            When I said that, you snorted loudly at me.  I glanced at you.  You stared into the flames as you asked me if I still thought you were my friend after you were put in prison.

            I took my time in coming up with a response.  True, I hadn't wanted to think of you as such, but I couldn't just discard the things you had done for me before that.  You broke the law for me, you continued to be my friend after you figured out what I was, you gave me laughter and happiness.  I could honestly say that though I wanted to forget everything about you, I couldn't.  You had always been too much a part of my life for me to just throw you away like the rest of the world had.  Even though I believed you to be the monster the press made you out to be, there was always a part of me that still remembered the loyal, rash, laughing boy.  I could hide my feelings, but I could never lose them.

            I told you this and I was horrified to see a tear climb down your face.  Oh gods, I had said the wrong things.  I hadn't said what you needed to hear from me.

            As I fell over myself in apologies, you caught my hand, and rather roughly told me to shut up.  I fell silent, catching my lower lip in a almost panicked gnaw.  I could just have kicked myself for being so callous as to hurt you so bad.

            After a few moments and you had composed yourself, you quietly asked what you had done to ever deserve such a loyal and eloquent friend as me.  I than realised that my honesty had bought on your tears.  They were tears of happiness.

            So I comforted you, and I pulled you into a hug to show you how sincere I was.  You tensed and I almost let you go.  But than you returned my embrace, just holding me close.

            I cursed myself for forgetting how good you felt, but I wasn't going to pull away and leave you more vulnerable than you already were.  I knew now that I still loved you, if not more than I did fourteen years ago, and that for as long as I lived, I would always love you.

            You smelled good, almost too good.  I found my nose buried in your long hair and I couldn't stop myself from inhaling deeply.

            You pulled away, and I was embarrassed for causing you to do so.  I berated myself sharply for giving in to the wolf inside.

            You studied my face, and I slowly met your dark eyes.  You quietly observed how much greyer I had gotten since you had seen me last, and you brushed your hand across the side of my face, pushing my hair away from my face.

            I told you that going grey was just something that happened to people like me.  The stress, the pain, it happens.  And then you said that you thought it suited me, that you liked it, and you tentatively--almost shyly--lead forwards, giving me a chance to tell you no.

            I couldn't have told you no, I couldn't even move.  I sat, frozen, desperately waiting for you to finish covering the distance between us.  It seemed to take you an eternity, but finally, your mouth cautiously met mine.

            Your mouth was gentle and questioning.  I whimpered, knowing this was what I had dreaming about for years, and it was all I could do not to throw you to the ground and ravish you like I so badly wanted to.  You needed softness now.

            You pulled away slightly and searched my face.  I was breathing a bit harder.  I don't know if you found what you were looking for because I couldn't stay away from you any longer.  I all but lunged forwards and made your lips my territory.

            I managed to restrain some of my frantic hunger as I devoured you.  You didn't seem to mind.  In fact, you responded with fervour and tied your hands in my long hair.

            Tongues and mouths wildly tangled as we fell back onto the hard slightly uneven floor.  I don't think we really notice the uncomfortable ground as we were both too busy discovering the other.  You seemed to find that I tasted as good as I thought you did, and your mouth would trace my neck, then almost recklessly race back up to my lips.

            I managed to gasp out that I wanted you for more than just one night.  You stopped unbuttoning my robes and you looked me, your dark eyes lustful and inquiring.  I cupped your face and told you I wanted you forever and I had for a long time.

            I was scared that I would frighten you off, that you just needed some bodily reassurance, but your eyes glistened with unshed tears and you kissed me with such longing happiness I nearly burst into tears myself.  When our mouths separated, you muttered that you never dreamed that I would want you as my permanent mate, but nothing in the world would make your world more complete.

            We made love numerous times that night, with bodies and mouths, with tongues and hands, with words and promises.  I had never felt so complete in my life as I did when I woke up with your warmth next to me.

            The rest of the week was spent in your arms.  The moon came, and for the first time in years, I had someone to run with, to play with, to have a pack with.

            You stayed with me while I recovered the next day.  We both knew that you would be leaving that next morning, so even though I was tired and you tried to point out to me how much I needed my rest, I seduced you again and again.

            You promised to come back as soon as you could.  I told you I would be waiting.

            I never knew when you would show up on my doorstep, but whenever I saw a big black dog and a hippogriff, I knew that I could stop waiting.

            Then one day, you showed up and the lines on your face told me that things were going to be changing very soon.  You sat down, and quietly told me that Harry had witnessed the old Evil return, and that you could no longer go out because Peter had told all of the followers of the Evil about your secret.

            I couldn't believe it.  I couldn't imagine how that would kill you.  You needed to be free, free to run in the sun, free to feel the breeze.

            The only good news that you had was that until as safe place for a group that would fight the Evil could be found, you would be staying with me.

            You were determined to make the most of your time with me.  We both knew that soon it would you that would be waiting for me instead of the other way around.

            Our nights--and a good portion of our days also--were filled with our mixed garbled cries of the joy of the other.  I didn't get much done, but since I had you, it didn't really matter.

            When the search for a safe place didn't get anywhere and things were beginning to look bleak, you finally and very reluctantly said that you might know a good place.  From the tone of your voice, I knew it was the very last place on earth--other than prison--that you wanted to go to.

            I felt your pain when your old family house was all that was left.  I had heard stories, terrible stories, about your family and the house that was your forced home for sixteen years of your life.

            I could see how much you envied me every time I saw you.  I was allowed to go out in to the open and help our cause while you were forced to stay behind in the grimy, infested hole that once as the pride and joy of your insane bigoted family.

            Whenever I could, I came to you.  You were almost desperate and possessive in our lovemaking.  I felt your need to have some control over something in your life, and I let you have your way with me more often than not.

            The second night that I know that I will never forget happened in June.  Snape had summoned you in almost a desperation.  I was surprised and afraid of what that meant.  It was no secret that you and Snape hated each other so much that it was a miracle if you and he could be in the same room without killing each other.

            Our horror was confirmed when Snape told us that Harry was being used and walking into a trap.  We tried to tell you to stay, but you wouldn't hear of it.  You told that cranky house-elf of yours to tell Dumbledore what was happening as we gathered everyone up in the house and raced to Harry's rescue.

            The followers put up a decent fight.  Every thing was going our way until you mocked your crazy cousin one too many times.  She slammed a spell that hit you straight in the chest, and you looked shocked, and then you began to fall, right into the Gateway Of Death.

            I mechanically stopped Harry from following you.  I heard my voice trying to calm him, to make him see the truth, even thought my entire being was screaming at my to let go of the boy and to follow you through that veil.

            I really don't remember much after that.  Everything was in a fog.  The days and nights blurred together.  I can hear my voice telling Mrs Weasley that I wasn't hungry as she tried again to get me to eat.  I can vaguely hear the rest of the Order whispering behind my back as I stared out of the window.  None of them could understand my sudden withdrawal from the world.

            I didn't try to explain it to them.  I was in so much pain that I was beyond being numb.  I couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't drink, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything except sit and stare.  This was even more painful than the time you were taken off to prison.  At least then, I had known you were alive, and I didn't know that you wanted me.  My time with you had been so brief, too brief, that I couldn't truly digest that you were never coming back to me.  I would be alone for the rest of my life.  No one could or would ever fill my heart the same way you did.

            I was sitting and staring at nothing when I heard someone quietly clearing their throat.  I glanced over.  Dumbledore was sitting patiently a little ways away from me.  A small tray of food was next to him, and he was holding a book and a piece of paper.

            "Good afternoon."  He said softly.  I turned my head and returned to staring out the window.  "You do know you have Molly in quite a tizzy downstairs, don't you?  Your refusal of everything she's cooked has her very upset.  She won't let anyone see you unless they bring you something to eat."

            I had nothing to say to that.  All I wanted to do was be with you again.  I was waiting for death to take me also.

            He waited for a response.  When I never offered one, he sighed and I heard the crinkle of paper.  "I don't know if you know this, but according to Sirius's will, you receive almost everything.  He left you the house, and he left you almost all his money.  And, apparently, you have been the only benefit other than Harry for nearly fifteen years."

            "I don't want it."  I said shortly.  Your money was nothing to me, and I didn't want your accursed house, particularly not the house-elf that help lead to your departure from me.  I wanted YOU, the one thing that I could now never have.  I didn't care how long you had left me everything in the will.  It wasn't what I needed.

            I can only imagine what Dumbledore thought about my reply.  "You don't want it?  What, than, do you recommend be done with the sizable amount that he left you?"

            "I don't care.  Give it to Harry.  I don't need it."  I told him listlessly.

            I knew that he was sweeping me with his gaze, taking in my shabby and tattered clothing.  "Remus," he said gently.  "I know that you're hurting--"

            I snorted quietly.  He had no idea how much I was hurting.  He simply couldn't even begin to understand what my pain felt like.

            He was silent again.  Maybe he was beginning to realise what things were like for you and me.  Maybe he was perplexed.  I don't really know, nor do I really care.  "Remus, you can't keep doing this to yourself."  Dumbledore said finally.  "The moon is coming, and you'll die because you won't have enough strength to survive the transformation."  Good.  "But we need you here.  You're important to our cause, and you're all that's left for Harry.  He needs you here.  I know that Sirius was important to you, but to let yourself waste away like this is not what he would have wanted."

            I wanted to scream.  He had no idea how important you were, and he didn't have the faintest idea what you would have wanted.  I just wanted to slap him, and then go and find a silver knife.  Maybe the physical pain would make me feel better.

            I heard him rising from his chair.  "I don't know if you don't want this either, but I'm going to leave it here for you.  Please, rethink your decision."  I heard him leave the room.

            He had left the book.  Lifelessly, I picked it up and opened it.  Carefully taped to the front page was two plain platinum rings.  I stared at them, then quickly turned the page.

            It seems that I had rubbed off on you in more ways than I had realised.  It was a journal, your journal.  I had never known that you kept one.  I had always told you what a good idea it was, but I never knew that you had listened to me.

            I read it, hungrily, painfully.  You spread your soul out in those pages.  It wasn't until the last pages that I felt my life fall away.  Your scrawling handwriting spoke of how you ordered those two rings, and how you were going to give me one on my next birthday, to show that you really truly wanted to be with me forever.  For some reason, you believed that I hadn't trusted you that this was forever because I had seen you in other relationships.  You wanted to prove it to me.

            It was only then that I found the emotions to cry.

            And I cried.  I cried through the rest of your journal, I cried as I put my ring on, I cried as I took your ring and put it on a chain to keep you close to my heart forever, I cried until my weakened body didn't have the strength to make any more tears.

            I knew what I'd be doing then.  I would live for Harry.  I would live to destroy the Evil that had destroyed you.  I would put one foot in front of the other.  I would leave your house to the Order and the money to Harry.  And I would wait.

            My whole life seems to be consisting of me waiting for you, and now I would wait some more.

            I will be joining you someday soon.  I hope that you will wait for me, because I'm waiting for you.

            I'm waiting.


End file.
